Vulcanized
by tinuelena
Summary: A reformed Sylar, living in a world of horror and persecution, flees to Vulcan after first contact is made. But after losing his family, he snaps again-- and this time, he finds himself living as Spock on the Enterprise, a new sort of power at his feet.
1. Chapter 1

November 2012

New York City

xx

The ground-floor apartment was almost completely dark.

A lone floor lamp, equipped with a dim bulb, gave the only illumination—but it was enough for Sylar to see his victim's face, and that was all he needed.

Peter Petrelli struggled against the wall, but he knew he couldn't escape Sylar's grip. If he could get out of this, it would have to be with words.

"Come on," he began, "don't do this. You don't have to do this."

Sylar tilted his head. "Of course I do. It's my nature, Peter. I'm… curious. When I slice open your skull, which powers do I get? Just yours? Or all the powers you've accumulated?"

"What does it matter?"

"I could kill an infinite number of birds with one stone," replied Sylar. "Hiro Nakamura's power… Matt Parkman's…"

"You already killed Matt," Peter spat.

Sylar sneered. "That was because of what he did to me. He tried to turn me into your brother. And if you recall, I didn't take his power."

Peter definitely remembered. He had been the one to find Matt's body, skull crushed in, lying broken on the kitchen floor. The refrigerator had been wallpapered with Molly's artwork; one drawing, a picture of herself with Mohinder and Matt, had floated to the ground and lay, sopping wet, soaked in the blood of her adoptive father. He couldn't remember whether he'd retched or cried first.

"With your power," Sylar went on, "I'll absorb the abilities of anyone who attempts to fight me. I'll be invincible."

"You are invincible," Peter argued. "You already took Claire's ability… Jesus, you already took _Claire…"_

"I didn't _take_ Claire's power," Sylar corrected, a smirk on his face. "I never _took _anything from Claire. She was always so willing… eager, even_._"

"God _damn_ you!" Every inch of him ached to break free and wipe that impetuous grin off his face with his two fists.

"Did you really think I could settle down and be Gabriel Gray again? Be a suburban dad and take little Noah to soccer practice every weekend?"

"Claire thought you could," Peter said quietly. "She wanted it. I don't know what the hell got into her head, but she thought you could be a family."

The briefest shadow of regret passed through Sylar's eyes; then, they were cold onyx again. "She was wrong."

Peter had seen the softening. "You still love her."

"I don't love anyone."

"If you kill me—_Gabriel—_she'll never love you again."

Wordlessly, Sylar raised his index finger. "Goodbye, Peter."


	2. Chapter 2

April 2063

Fort Worth, Texas

xx

"It's Noah and Lily's twenty-fifth anniversary next week," Claire said. "Do you think we dare send them a gift?"

He sighed. "Claire—"

"I know," she said, twisting her hands together. "But we haven't seen them for years, ever since he got sick of moving…"

Sylar sat down on the couch and put his arms around her. Life had been simpler when Noah was a child. Both Claire and Sylar were used to fugitives' lives, and after they'd lived somewhere for a few years, they switched locations to avoid suspicion—never aging, it turned out, was a side effect of being immortal.

But before long, Claire looked far too young to be the mother of a pre-teen, so she'd posed as sister to her own son; and by the time Noah graduated high school, Sylar had dyed his hair gray in spots in order to pass for a forty-something.

Now, they'd returned to Claire's old home state, where the neighbors knew them as Scott and Callie Grant. They had no close friends. They stayed as far off the radar as possible. To live, they had to.

In 2018, fear had cemented a new governmental policy. Thanks to Mohinder's completion of his father's research, doctors were able to test for abilities at birth. Babies with abilities were euthanized immediately. President Cole had ordered the construction of several concentration camp-like facilities; plenty of nourishment was provided, and the beds were softer than in Nazi Germany; but the medical experimentation was just as bad, if not worse, and the ash pits were just as haunting as old images of Auschwitz. Individuals like Sylar and Claire—and their son, Noah, who had inherited his grandfather's ability to fly—earned a life sentence simply by existing. Outrage over this escalated until, in 2026, it had turned into the Third World War. But America—the villain which the New Allies fought against—won, declaring victory in 2053. The laws stayed; the camps remained. And a list—which, in fact, had begun as the list Sylar had so desperately wanted to sink his teeth into while posing as Zane Taylor all those years ago—was tacked up in every office across the country. Police stations, post offices, banks, doctor's offices—they all scanned fingerprints from insurance cards, credit cards, stamps. If a fingerprint of someone with abilities cropped up, the police would arrive in less than five minutes.

"Wear those thin knit gloves of yours," Sylar instructed. "Go to a gas station, exchange a twenty-dollar bill for fives, and pay for shipping with those. And when you get the present, pay to have it gift-wrapped."

"I won't touch a thing," Claire promised, and pressed a kiss to his lips.

"Be careful," he warned, the usual farewell when one of them left the house alone.

A few minutes after Claire left, Sylar went to the kitchen. Just as he was about to begin defrosting a pound of beef for dinner, the phone rang.

"Grants' residence, Scott speaking," he answered mechanically.

"Dad?"

His heart leapt. "Noah?"

"Dad, I've got a way out of here."

"I've told you before, there's no way out of the country. There are walls around every border. Fingerprint checkpoints. I—"

"No borders," he said excitedly. "No passport needed. No different country."  
Sylar was thoroughly confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Turn on the news."

He did so. A CNN reporter stood in a field, her feet surrounded by overgrown grass, a large aircraft behind her. No—that wasn't an aircraft—what _was_ that?

"Zefram Cochrane, first man to travel faster than light, is here with me now. Mr. Cochrane, just how ecstatic are you right now? In one day, you've achieved light-speed travel, and got the attention of what seems to be our closest alien neighbors."

"It's amazing, you know—but I nearly, I nearly sh*t my pants up there, I have to say. I'd still rather take the train."

The reporter laughed. "Now, these aliens—Vulcans, as they call themselves—wish to bring a few human ambassadors with them back to their home planet. Are you thinking of tagging along?"

Cochrane laughed, a deep, hearty laugh. "Nah, I don't think so. I like Earth just fine. I've got to admit I'm a little scared, too."

"Did they specify the purpose of bringing humans to their planet?"

"The captain of the ship thinks we are ready to join the interstellar community," he told her. "However, he doesn't know if the rest of the planets will be so keen on taking in a planet that just ended a nuclear war."

"I'm coming to Montana," Sylar said, and hung up the phone.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Thank you, those who have reviewed/subscribed.

I know crossovers don't get as much attention as regular fanfic, so I just want to let you, my readers, know that your feedback is even more valuable to me. This is my first attempt at a crossover, with two worlds which I love, and I really hope it goes smoothly!

**The Foggiest Idea:** Your excitement makes me glad :) We'll be on Vulcan soon.

**Mark:** Obtuse triangle mouth? :D I could come up with descriptors… too bad it's now after Peter's time.

**Yuki:** Some episodes of _Heroes_ turn my stomach a bit, too. *shudder* I wanted to remind people that Sylar was still a violent serial killer at one point, so his character change would be a bigger contrast. Spock has a part to play, and I think I'll leave the last question a mystery. :)

xx

June 2063

Bozeman, Montana

xx

"All of the shuttles will arrive at the same destination," said the Vulcan. "It is illogical to overload one shuttle when there is room on the other."

"Well, then, can't we all go on the second one?" said Claire.

Sylar and Claire, along with Noah and his family, stood waiting to be loaded onto the alien shuttlecraft. As fugitives from the ongoing Holocaust, the Vulcans had promised them each a spot. However, Claire was near tears at the prospect of being split up.

"I urge you to proceed in the manner in which you are instructed," the Vulcan said sternly, "or we will leave you on your planet."

"I'll go alone," Sylar said, squeezing Claire's shoulder. "You go with Noah."

She kissed him, then reluctantly boarded the first shuttle with her son and his family.

As Sylar buckled himself in, he remembered how happy he'd been when Claire had taken him back, all those years ago, before the European countries got involved in the war. She'd only returned for Noah's sake, in the beginning. He could still see it—Noah, nine years old, clutching an action figure, on his front step. And Claire, her face resolved, asking him to protect the child, because she couldn't do it by herself.

And he'd protected them both. He'd fought for them. One snowy February day, when the family was living in Maine, a special forces unit crashed into their house. While Claire hid with Noah in the bathroom, he left each and every one of them dead and bleeding in the snow.

But no others. He promised, when Claire walked over the threshold, that the only act of violence he'd ever commit again would be to protect them, and he'd kept that promise.

As the shuttle cleared Earth's atmosphere, he set his sights on the future. Finally, his former life was behind him. He and his family would be able to start a new life; it would be hard, of course, learning a new language, new customs, new everything. But there would be no more hiding, no more running. They'd live as Gabriel and Claire Gray, and be able to see Noah and Lily and their granddaughter Krista whenever they wanted to. The Vulcans seemed to be kind, peaceful people; Sylar looked forward to stepping foot on new terrain.

He glanced out the window into the vast expanse of space. It was beautiful, the black sea sprinkled with diamonds, the feeling of freedom. Far away, he could see Claire's shuttle, jetting peacefully across the solar system—

—and then it was gone.

Sylar blinked, hoping it was just an optical illusion, or that they were passing behind some dark matter invisible against the fabric of space. But Claire's shuttle had not resurfaced.

"Hey!" he shouted. "Hey! What happened to the other shuttle! What—" He unbuckled himself and went to the front of the shuttlecraft. "What happened to the other ship?" he demanded.

The Vulcan turned calmly toward him. "We are attempting to lock on to its signal," she said evenly.

Her co-pilot shook his head. "No. Nothing."

She pressed a button. "T'Paal to _T'Plana-Hath_. Are you able to contact the _Kyi'i?"_

"Negative," came the reply. "The _Kyi'i _has been lost to a spontaneous black hole."

Sylar felt his heart blacken into ash.

xx

The last thing that ran through Claire's head upon entering the black hole was a memory.

She was standing in an empty house, trapped in the grip of Stephen Canfield. Her father and his partner—_Sylar,_ of all people—stood in the bare livingroom, forming words she couldn't register because of shock—the man she despised most in the world was ten feet from her, the look in his eyes registering sincere concern.

Canfield opened a vortex, and Claire hung on to the wall—but she was slipping, her fingers losing grip. Then, the inevitable; she felt herself hurtling through the air, she was going to disappear, she would be gone forever—

—and then a hand reached out and grabbed her arm.

Sylar.

He had risked himself for a chance to save her. And in that instant, Claire knew her father wouldn't have held on that tightly. No one—not Zach, not even West—had transferred that much emotion in a single touch. That's what Sylar had meant when he said he couldn't kill her. He _loved_ her.

Later that night, Claire had returned the favor. At Griffith Park, Noah had offered to let Stephen go in exchange for making Sylar disappear. Before she knew it, she found herself pleading for his life. Somewhere in her heart, she realized that she'd rather disappear into nothingness than let Sylar vanish from the world.

As she took a last glimpse at Sylar's shuttle, she knew her feelings had never really changed.

"Goodbye," she whispered.

And she was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

**iris-tigress:** yes, Spock does fit in. Of course! And I'm going to leave you wondering about the final pairing. :D

**Hazgarn:** Indeed. Kind of had to be, though.

**KHwhitelion:** yes, the world needs more ST/Heroes crossovers!! Who's your Heroes OTP, just out of curiosity?

**The Foggiest Idea:** Thank you! :)

xx

June 2232

Shi'Kahr, Vulcan

"Sylar, it is illogical to squirm in such a manner. I realize that your human biology is ill-equipped to handle the temperatures of Vulcan, but you can not switch in to more comfortable clothes until you return to your dwelling. Resign yourself to that truth and remain stationary."

That was Sarek's way of saying _stand still, you stupid fucking _homo sapiens_._

Sylar—who had adopted his old alias upon discovering the commonality of five-letter "S" names on Vulcan—knew how lucky he was to be standing by the side of one of the planet's most respected elders at the presentation of his newborn baby. Sarek was the Vulcan ambassador to Earth, and he had befriended him at the most inauspicious of times—three hours after Sylar's escape from a Vulcan detention facility. Being familiar with humans, Sarek believed he could connect with this one. He declared that Sylar was simply misunderstood, took him under his wing, invited him into his own home, and gave him a place to belong for the first time in over a century. Sylar felt deep gratitude for the Vulcan.

But still, it annoyed him to be treated like a child.

Two midwives and Sarek's mother stepped out of the dwelling, their faces showing no trace of emotion, no inclination whether things had gone well or poorly.

"Lady Amanda," one of the midwives announced in a dulcet tone, stepping aside to let Sarek's wife emerge.

Amanda held a baby boy, wrapped in white cloth. "It's a son," she reported, smiling.

Sarek went to her side and gazed down at his offspring without expression. "His name is Spock," he declared.

One by one, each friend and family member raised their hand in the Vulcan salute.

"Live long and prosper, Spock," they chorused.

xx

Alone at his kitchen table, Sylar sat bare-chested in the sweltering heat. He felt like a lobster being boiled; suffocating from the heat, dying slowly, too slowly.

Briefly, he wondered what it felt like when Claire first walked through fire. She'd told him that before he took her power, she could feel pain; after he'd opened her skull, she was impervious to it.

Sylar could feel pain.

After discovering that Vulcans were touch-telepaths, he felt the hunger surface. To satiate his curiosity, he'd cut open the skull of a scientist; they locked him away. Which lasted precisely ten minutes. They hadn't counted on his power. Horrified at what he'd done, he turned his deadly finger on his own head. But he couldn't die.

So he ran into the desert, swallowing mouthfuls of dry air and begging God to kill him.

And that's when Sarek came.

They went back to Lap'Kahr and had a long talk, in which Sylar had wrung out every emotion. The pain of missing his family. The emptiness caused by the absence of Claire. The ache to speak to old friends who had lost the battle with Time—Mohinder, Maya, Sandra. The frustration of not fitting in with Vulcan society, of being an involuntary outcast. He laid his soul out, bare-boned, for a stranger to see. No shred of sympathy, however, was to be found. No emotion, not from a Vulcan who'd undergone the _kolinahr_.

In the beginning, Sylar stuck with him only because he was the ambassador to Earth, and Sylar desperately wanted to go back. He figured this was his best bet. But the longer he stayed, the more he came to be friends with Sarek. He also became more fascinated by the coldly logical inhabitants of the planet—and, strangely enough, his hunger subsided.

Until he saw Sarek's son.

xx

"I feel restless," said Sylar the next afternoon.

Amanda sipped at her tea. "How so?"

"I don't belong here. My whole life—back on Earth, I always had something to work toward. A goal of some sort. First, I wanted to become a watchmaker. Then, I wanted to collect every ability I could. After that, my goal was to protect my family. Now—" He shrugged, as if to say _nothing._

"Maybe," she suggested, "your destiny lies in space."

"Space?"

"Starfleet."

"After what I did, they wouldn't let me, even if I did want to join," Sylar argued. "And I don't think Earth would take me back."

"An outpost, then," Amanda said lightly, smiling.

Returning the smile, he decided to change the subject. "I'm glad you're doing so well after the birth."

"I didn't know what to expect," she admitted, gazing at the baby boy asleep next to her in a bassinet. "Interspecies mating—sometimes, it can be disastrous." Lovingly, she ran her fingers over her son's fine black hair. "And to be completely honest," she murmured, almost to herself, gazing down at him, "I still don't know how he's going to fit in here."

Sylar felt the hunger burn his veins. He ached to split open that tiny skull and deconstruct the anomaly that was an interspecies brain. But he couldn't give in. Not now.

"No," he said. "No, I'm not sure either."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **Thanks to everyone who's reading! I love hearing your feedback!

**iris-tigress: **Wow! Congratulations on your new baby sister! What's her name, out of curiosity? (I'm writing a baby name book. I LOVE names.) And yes, you're spot on.

**Mark: **yes, I'm cruel and all of that, but there's a method to the madness. And yes, your equal signs are in the right place. I think you'll (partially) see where I'm going after this chapter.

**Mellyna: **Thanks! Glad to hear it!

xx

March 2249

Shi'Kahr, Vulcan

xx

"You have surpassed the expectations of your instructors. Your final record is flawless, with one exception: I see that you have applied to Starfleet as well."

Spock stood before the Vulcan Council, waiting to hear his fate. "It was logical," he said, "to cultivate multiple options."

"Logical," replied the head of the Council, "but unnecessary. You are hereby accepted to the Vulcan Science Academy. It is truly remarkable, Spock, that you have achieved so much, despite your disadvantage. All rise—"

Spock tilted his head. "If you would clarify, Minister. To what disadvantage are you referring?"

"Your human mother."

Beneath the composed surface, Spock felt his blood boil. "Council… Ministers, I must decline."

Tynak's Vulcan placidity came undone. "No Vulcan has ever declined admission to this academy!" he exclaimed.

"Then," Spock said, a hint of sarcasm in his tone, "as I am half-human, your record remains untarnished."

His father arched an irritated eyebrow. "Spock. You have made a commitment to honor the Vulcan way!"

"Why did you come before this council today?" demanded Tynak, before Spock could reply. "Was it to satisfy your emotional need to rebel?"

"The only emotion I wish to convey is gratitude," Spock said evenly. "Thank you, Ministers, for your consideration." He glared up at them. "Live long and prosper."

xx

Sarek stormed into Sylar's dwelling.

"My son," Sarek groused, "is—is—"

"Illogical?" provided Sylar, with a half-smile.

Sarek's face clouded over. "To say the least. He has chosen Starfleet Academy over the Vulcan Science Academy."

A familiar feeling rose up inside Sylar's ribcage. He tried to ignore it. "Starfleet," he repeated. "When does he leave?"

"In two days," replied Sarek.

"Maybe," Sylar said slowly, "I should talk to him."

"You?"

"It's logical, Sarek. I'm not his father, so he's more likely to listen to my opinion."

"Your reasoning is flawed. He should respect the opinions of his elders, especially those of his father."

"But Spock's half-human," Sylar pressed. "Maybe he should, but he won't. His brain is built differently. Over time, your species' brain has evolved to grant a larger amount of space to the neocortex in the left side, and the area that controls emotions has shrunk—" He broke off, seeing Sarek's confused expression. "It's my ability," Sylar finished lamely. "I understand how things work."

"Yes. Well," Sarek said, "perhaps you should come to our dwelling for dinner, and you can speak with my son after the meal." Stiffly, he rose and took his leave.

xx

"I presume," Spock said, as the pair walked into the oasis later that night, "that my father has asked you to speak to me on his behalf."

"No," replied Sylar. "Actually, I'm the one that suggested it."

Spock tilted his head, a signal of confusion. "For what reason?"

Sighing, he ventured further in to the trees. "Spock… don't you ever feel like you're here to serve a higher purpose? You were born of a Vulcan father and a human mother. You're different. Special."

"I hardly see the correlation between my parentage and my purpose," Spock replied.

"So why are you going to Earth? Is it just because you want to get off of Vulcan and to someplace where you can embrace your human side?" A pause. "I understand—I've lived here for 186 years. It's a dull, uninspiring planet."

Spock glared at him. "If you are attempting to elicit an emotional response, you will not succeed."

"I don't want an emotional response," came Sylar's contemplative reply, "though I do miss it. The paralyzing fright. The screaming…"

Spock reached up to deliver a nerve pinch, but Sylar was quicker. Before Spock knew it, he found himself pinned to a tree, hovering a foot off the ground.

"You call what you do a mind meld," Sylar said, advancing on the Vulcan. "You can see inside a person's head?"

"An oversimplified explanation."

"I can do something similar," whispered Sylar, and grabbed Spock's arms. A flood of memories rushed into his brain, Spock's entire life—the teasing he experienced as a child, the pain of never fitting in, the desire to experience the human side of existence.

"We're so much alike, you and I," Sylar breathed, after absorbing the last wisp of memory. "Under different circumstances, we might have even been friends."

"I have never been your friend," spat Spock, "and I highly doubt that we would be compatible in any situation."

It was consuming him, the hunger, the bloodlust, the God-awful curiosity. "I never got the chance to examine the brain of that physicist," Sylar told him, ignoring the insult. "How does it work?" A flick of his wrist, and Spock winced in pain. "Vulcans are touch-telepaths. Not as… convenient as Matt Parkman's telepathy, but just as useful."

"Fascinating," Spock said thickly. "Are all humans, then, capable of such power? Of such… unwarranted violence?"

"No," replied Sylar, a smirk on his face. "I'm special."

And with the gusto of a career soldier finally returned to battle, he raised his index finger and made a clean slice across Spock's forehead.

Green blood soaked the fine sand. Transfixed, Sylar stared at the image for a moment. He was so used to seeing red, and the color of the alien blood reminded him why he was here in the first place…

Kneeling, he exposed the Vulcan's brain, willing himself to stop thinking about Claire and focus. Though the Vulcan brain had marked differences from those of humans, Sylar isolated the crucial point in minutes. Absorbing Spock's touch-telepathy satiated the hunger for the briefest of moments. And then it flared up, vicious, intense, and Sylar thirsted for more—at last, he had a goal again.

He was going back to Earth. And he was going to take everything.

xx

Although his ears now tapered into unfamiliar points, and he was finally comfortable in the desert air, Sylar felt strangely at home in the body of Spock. As he faced Sarek, he felt sure the old man would not be able to tell that his son was not his son at all.

"Father, I feel I must inform you that Sylar failed in his endeavor to convince me to remain on Vulcan," he began.

"I predicted he would be unsuccessful," Sarek replied. "Where is he?"

"He expressed a desire to remain in the forest alone for a period of time," he replied smoothly. "I believe he is once again recalling memories of losing his wife and son."

"Perhaps," Sarek said quietly, "one day you will understand what it is like to miss your family, Spock."

"Good night, Father," came the reply.

Sylar strode down the hall to Spock's bedroom, but was met in the hall by Amanda.

"Spock," she said softly.

"Mother," he greeted. "I can only assume that you are disappointed in my choice as well."

"I meant what I said this morning," she replied, smiling. "I will always be proud of you."

Sylar softened. Amanda had been the closest thing to a real mother he'd ever had, and to hear those words from her mouth strengthened his resolve, even though he knew they weren't meant for him.

"I must admit my eagerness to see Earth," Sylar told her. "I have ignored my human heritage for far too long."

Amanda glowed. "Starfleet is in San Francisco," she said, "and I grew up in New Chicago. They are in the same country."

"I will visit," Sylar promised.

"Will you do one other favor for me?"

"Of course, Mother."

"Bring Sylar with you," she whispered. "Vulcan is no place for him. Bring him home; he misses it."

"Won't you… miss him?" asked Sylar.

A sad smile crossed her face. "Yes," she said. "I will miss him dearly. He is the only other human on the planet, and it has been wonderful to have someone whom I can relate to. But I can't stop him from returning to the place where he belongs." She put her hands to his face. "Just like I will miss you. But I wouldn't stop you from going, either."

Sylar could have hugged her; but he held himself stiffly, remembering he was acting the role of an emotionless Vulcan.

"I shall miss you as well," he allowed, inclined his head, and shut himself in his room.


	6. Chapter 6

**KHwhitelion:** Yeah, I did! I never thought I'd kill him off in a fic, but he sort of lives on through Sylar in this one, so it's semi-okay. lol

**Andrina Sparda: **So glad you like it, and I hope you forgive me for killing Spock. lol :D

**FireChildSlytherin5: **Always good to see someone from the same House ;) Thanks for the review!

**Mark: **thank you :) And yes, they would clog the warp nacelles. Or something like that. Who knows. :P

xx

May 2258

San Francisco, California

xx

"It's weird as hell, Jim," Bones said, as they strolled across the lawn.

Kirk tossed the apple he was carrying into the air and caught it. Threw it again, caught it. "What is?"

"The patient I told you about."

"Right. The one your hands miraculously cured."

"Dammit, Jim, it's not funny!" He yanked Kirk's apple out of midair. "I'm telling the truth!"

"So you think you have some sort of healing powers."

"Yeah," muttered Bones. "I mean, I guess. I don't know."

"Are you sure someone else didn't give him some new miracle medicine or something?"

Bones shook his head. "He was my patient. Besides, it wasn't a gradual recovery. I just put my hand on his shoulder—trying to reassure him—and all of a sudden, the goddamn wound healed. Literally healed itself, right in front of my eyes."

"Okay, so maybe you're the Second Coming. All hail Jesus McCoy."

Bones rolled his eyes. "Christ, Jim."

He grinned. "Exactly."

They pushed through the large glass doors, Bones still shaking his head, and took their places on the "bridge."

"No real pilot?" Bones demanded, taking note of the engineer in his place.

"Testing," replied Uhura. "They couldn't test on Tuesday because of the eclipse, so they're doing it today."

Kirk clapped his hands together. "Let's get this show on the road," he said flippantly, sitting down in the captain's chair. "Bones, give me my apple back."

Sylar, who was still masquerading as Spock, stood in the observation area next to Pike. "Captain," he said, "are you certain that this cadet is serious about the examination?"

"Don't worry about it, Spock," came Pike's reply. "Overconfidence is just his defense mechanism."

Moments later, Pike found himself agreeing with the Vulcan as Kirk kicked back in the captain's chair, munching on his apple and pointing his finger at the viewscreen like a gun. "How'd that guy beat your test?" he demanded.

Sylar was baffled. "I do not know."

xx

Later that night, as Sylar mechanically checked and re-checked the programming of the _Kobayashi Maru_ test, Leonard McCoy sat in his quarters, staring at a phone number.

When he was younger, his maternal grandfather had always been something of a joke to the family—he claimed he had the ability to dream the future. His ancestors, he said, were evolved humans who had survived the American Holocaust—but everyone knew there had been no survivors. The infamous Cole administration, and the string of tyrants after, had seen to that.

His mother had always told him to humor his grandpa and listen to the stories, but disregard them. Now he wasn't so sure he should.

Picking up the phone, he dialed the number.

"Hello?"

"Grandpa Ben? It's Leonard."

He laughed like an Italian and spoke like a New Yorker. "Leonard! God damn, it's been a long time. I was afraid I'd be a dead man before you called again. How's Starfleet?"

"It's good," replied Bones. "How's the new place?"

"It's a goddamn nursing home," came the brusque reply. "Pretty nurses though. You oughta get your ass over here and visit once in a while—maybe you could pick one up." He chuckled.

"Thanks, Grandpa, but I'm staying away from women for a while."

"Ah, forget about the bitch," came Ben's advice. "Not all women are demons."

"I know. That's not what I called about though. I…" He trailed off.

"What is it? Spit it out."

"I was wondering about your dreams. Do you still have them?"

"Damn straight I do. Just last night I dreamed that the guy across the hall was gonna kick the bucket. Poor old bastard—died after breakfast this morning."

"Something's happening to me," Bones told him, his words coming out in a rush. "Yesterday, I clapped one of my patients on the shoulder to tell him he'd be alright in a week or so. He had a phaser wound. And just like that, the goddamn thing vanished."

"It's in your blood," Ben responded. "Sometimes it skips a generation, which is probably why your ma didn't believe me, but these abilities are a part of our family—my dad, my grandpa, all the way back to my fifth great-grandpa, who was a hero in the days before the war. A martyr, really. Got offed by some crazy serial killer, but distracted him long enough to save his wife and son."

Bones remembered the story. "So, you're saying I have the power to heal people."

"Looks like you went in to the right profession, kid."

Bones smiled.

"Well, hey—I gotta wheel down to the cafeteria and catch supper. Don't be a stranger."

"Next time I get a few days off," Bones promised.

After he hung up the phone, he went immediately to the medical complex. T'Lei, a young Vulcan orphan, lay asleep. He gazed at the machines she was hooked to. None of the doctors could figure out what was wrong with her.

Quietly, he lifted her hand and held it in his. Not sure what the method was, he simply willed her malady to heal. Then, one by one, he slipped the IVs from her skin and took away the oxygen mask.

The heart monitor beeped steadily.

xx

"This session has been called to resolve a troubling matter." The thick, urgent voice of Admiral Barnett traveled through the room. "James T. Kirk, step forward."

Bones and Kirk exchanged a look, and the latter approached one of the two podiums.

"Cadet Kirk," continued the Admiral, "evidence has been submitted to this council suggesting that you violated the ethical code of conduct pursuant to regulation 17.43 of the Starfleet code. Is there anything you care to say before we begin, sir?"

"Yes, I believe I have the right to face my accuser directly?"

A pale, severe-looking Vulcan stood up and straightened his uniform.

"Step forward, please."

He did so. Kirk watched him, fixing his own gaze on the dark eyes, communicating his lack of intimidation.

"This is Commander Spock," said Admiral Barnett. "He is one of our most distinguished graduates. He's programmed the Kobayashi Maru exam for the last four years."

"Cadet Kirk," Sylar began, his voice calm and measured, "you somehow managed to install and activate a subroutine in the programming code thereby changing the conditions of the test."

"Your point being?"

"In academic vernacular," Admiral Barnett said dryly, "you cheated."

For a moment, Sylar felt his mind wander; there was someone in the room with an ability. He could sense it. The hunger swelled—then Kirk's voice snapped him back to the matter at hand.

"Then let me ask _you_ something—I think we all know the answer to— the test itself is a cheat, isn't it? I mean, you programmed it to be unwinnable."

"Your argument precludes the possibility of a no-win scenario," replied Sylar.

A little smile appeared on Kirk's lips. "I don't believe in no-win scenarios."

"Then not only did you violate the rules," said Sylar, a note of disdain in his voice, "you also failed to understand the principle lesson."

"Please," Kirk said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Enlighten me."

"You of all people should know, Cadet Kirk—a captain cannot cheat death."

A murmur rippled through the crowd of cadets.

"Is it just me," Gaila whispered to Uhura, "or is that Vulcan getting kind of—emotional?"

"He's half-human," Uhura replied defensively.

Meanwhile, Kirk let out a little snort. "I of all people."

"Your father," Sylar continued. "Lieutenant George Kirk assumed control of his vessel before being killed in action, did he not?"

"I don't think you like the fact that I beat your test," Kirk accused, staring him down.

"Furthermore," he pressed, "you have failed to divine the purpose of the test."

"Enlighten me again."

"The purpose is to experience fear," he said pointedly—and as he said it, fire surged through his veins. He felt the urge to terrorize this man. Exploit his weaknesses and tear him down, bit by bit. "Fear in the face of certain death. To accept that fear, and maintain control of oneself and one's crew. This is a quality expected in every Starfleet captain."

Kirk had a sharp reply on the tip of his tongue, but was interrupted by an officer hurrying in to hand a PADD to the Admiral.

"We've received a distress call from Vulcan," Admiral Barnett announced. "With our primary fleet engaged in the Laurentian system, I hereby order all cadets to report to Hangar One immediately. Dismissed."

As the cadets hurried out of the room, Bones came to Kirk's side.

"Who was that pointy-eared bastard?" Kirk demanded.

"I don't know," Bones replied, "but I like him."


	7. Chapter 7

**FireChildSlytherin5: **Possibly. Sylar, Claire, and Adam/Kensei were all immortal… so it's possible that Adam could show up. Also, Hiro time travels, so it's a possibility that he could pop in. Will they? Honestly, I haven't decided yet. :D

**Andrina Sparda: **aww thanks. :) Yeah, I think Kirk and Sylar will have a different dynamic… still an interesting one though (I hope!) hehe. Thanks for reading!

**Mark: **Thanks. :D You'd have to get Peter Petrelli's power, and then you could take Sylar's… and then you two could have an epic battle—or something of the sort—I'm involved, I hope. Anyway…

xx

May 2258

_U.S.S. Enterprise_

Beta Quadrant

xx

"Captain!" Kirk sprinted onto the bridge, Bones and Uhura hot on his heels, and came to a skidding stop in front of the captain. "Captain Pike, sir, we have to stop the ship."

Sylar turned immediately.

"Kirk, how the hell did you get on board the Enterprise?" demanded Pike.

As Bones tried to make an excuse, Kirk cut him off. "Vulcan is not experiencing a natural disaster, it's being attacked by Romulans."

It had to be one of them, Sylar knew. One of them had the ability. The kid, the doctor, or the girl. And since he'd been her instructor at the Academy, and would have noticed during a class, it had to be one of the men. He was going to find out.

"Sir, that same anomaly we saw today—"

"Mr. Kirk is not cleared to be aboard this vessel, Captain," Sylar informed him, approaching them. "I can have the cadet removed from the bridge."

"Then try it! This cadet is trying to _save_ the bridge!"

"By suggesting a full stop mid-warp during a rescue mission?" Sylar demanded.

"It's not a rescue mission, listen to me. It's an attack."

"Based on what facts?"

As Kirk embarked on a litany of family history and kiss-ass remarks about reading Pike's dissertation, Sylar listened closely to his subconscious, trying to pick up any hints that Kirk might be the one with the ability. When he couldn't discern any evidence, he found himself agreeing with Kirk's reasoning that they were warping into a trap, and braced himself for the worst. A brief image of Sarek and Amanda crossed his mind.

"Arrival at Vulcan in five seconds," Sulu announced, and Sylar and Kirk exchanged a look. "Four… three… two…"

The _Enterprise_ exited warp and arrived in a field of debris that used to be several Federation starships. Chairs, clumps of wiring, and pieces of metal floated through Vulcan space.

"Emergency!" Pike shouted, and chaos ensued as people rushed to their stations.

"Deflector shields are holding!" came a voice.

Sulu, knuckles white, gripped the controls and piloted the _Enterprise_ through the debris. A disabled ship came into view.

"Drop us down underneath them, Sulu!"

Barely listening, Sulu dove beneath the ship, but not quite far enough; the other ship raked the top of the _Enterprise,_ sending several panels floating into space.

After they passed the starship, they got their first glimpse of real trouble.

It really was the same ship, Sylar noted. Kirk was right. He'd read about the _Kelvin_ incident, of course, and had seen images of the Romulan ship before. Its massive size dwarfed the _Enterprise,_ and as he stared at his screen, a ripple of fear surged through him.

"Captain, they're locking torpedoes," Sylar announced.

"Divert auxiliary power; warp nacelles to forward shields."

What happened next seemed, to Hikaru Sulu, like slow motion.

A cluster of brilliant green torpedoes streaked across the black expanse of space; they hit the _Enterprise_ directly, and the great starship shook so hard that a section of the bridge broke off and surrendered to the crushing darkness.

Janice Rand screamed, dropped her PADD, and tried desperately to hang on to something; there was nothing she could grab on to. Reflexively, he reached out; suddenly, a forcefield materialized over the gaping hole, and she landed hard on the ground.

"Sulu! Status report!"

Sulu turned back to his station. "Shields at 32 percent. Their weapons are powerful, sir. We can't take another hit like that."

He didn't notice that the science officer was staring holes in the back of his head.

Pike shifted. "Get me Starfleet command—"

"Captain, the Romulan ship has lowered some kind of high-energy pulse device into the Vulcan atmosphere," Sylar said. "Its signal seems to be blocking both our communication and transporter abilities." His mind spun. _If I stopped time—but can I teleport through _actual_ space?_

"All power to forward shields," commanded Pike. "Prepare to fire all weapons."

"Captain! We're being hailed!" shouted Uhura.

All heads turned as the tattooed face of a Romulan appeared on the viewscreen.

"Hello," came the informal greeting.

"I'm Captain Christopher Pike. To whom am I speaking?"

"Hi, Christopher, I'm Nero."

Sylar's lips twitched slightly. He was reminded of himself.

"You've declared war against the Federation," Pike said. "Withdraw, and I'll agree to arrange a conference with Romulan leadership at a neutral location."

"I do not speak for the Empire," came the reply. "We stand apart. As does your Vulcan crewmember. Isn't that right, Spock?"

Everyone on the bridge turned to Sylar. Utterly confused and unsure what to say, he stood.

"Pardon me," Sylar began. "I do not believe you and I are acquainted."

"No, we're not. Not yet. Spock, there is something I would like you to see. Captain Pike—your transporter has been disabled. As you can see by the rest of your armada, you have no choice. You will man a shuttle, and come aboard the Narada for negotiations. That is all."  
"He'll kill you," Kirk said plainly. "You know that."

Sylar agreed. "Your survival is unlikely."

"Captain, we gain nothing by diplomacy. Going over to that ship is a mistake."

"I, too, agree. You should re-think your strategy."

Pike didn't need to think twice. Five minutes ago, Kirk and Spock had been fighting. Now, they were firmly agreeing with each other. These men, he realized, had one important thing in common; they were worried, first and foremost, about the safety of the _Enterprise._ He had no qualms about leaving the ship in their hands.

"I understand that," he said finally. "I need officers who have been trained in advanced hand-to-hand combat."

Sulu, who had been helping Janice to her feet, raised his hand. "I have training."

"Then come with me. Kirk, you too, you're not supposed to be here anyway. Chekov—you have the conn."

xx

Bones stepped out of the turbolift onto Deck Seven and gaped at the bloody scene in front of him. Immediately, he ran to an Andorian yeoman whose leg was bent at a grotesque angle.

"You're going to be alright," Bones reassured him, placing a hand on his shoulder, like he'd done to the first patient back on Earth. When nothing happened, Bones panicked. Going through the motions, he took the man's pulse. Beneath him, he heard a cracking sound, and looked down to see that the Andorian had straightened his leg out.

"Not as bad as we thought, I guess," he said with a smile.

_Skin contact, _Bones realized. _I have to touch their skin._

He dashed around, taking more pulses than were necessary, leaving dozens of perfectly healthy, unhurt people in his wake. Adrenaline surged through his veins. He felt like an angel; ironic, since he'd never really believed in God.

"Doctor! Over here!" Christine Chapel tugged at a large section of ceiling, which had fallen on a crew member. With Bones' help, they lifted it off.

"It hurts," croaked the young man underneath. A small copper tube stuck out of his stomach; blood soaked his red uniform.

"Don't worry," Bones said. "Here. Let me take your pulse."

The man's eyes closed as Bones put two fingers to his throat.

"Pull the tube out," he instructed.

She raised an eyebrow. "What—"

"Goddamnit, just do it!"

Grimacing, she grabbed onto the tube and yanked it out of the ensign's body; he let out a pained yell and a stream of curses, but Dr. McCoy stayed with him, the pads of his fingertips on his throat.

"Doctor! We have to—" Nurse Chapel broke off as she saw the young man's wound close before her eyes. "It's gone."

He nodded.

"How do you feel?" she asked.

The ensign was just as shocked as she was. "Fine," he said. "I—I feel fine."

Nurse Chapel was beyond herself with awe. "Dr. McCoy," she whispered. "I don't understand."

"Honestly, neither do I," he replied.

xx

Stepping into the turbolift, Sylar tried to take stock. He'd just been appointed captain. The planet he'd called home for over a hundred years was on the verge of destruction. If he could just stop—

But he could. Closing his eyes, he used one of his many collected abilities, and froze time.

Taking a deep breath, he sank to the ground to think for a moment.

He tried to clear his mind. He tried to think of the right thing to do—thousands, maybe even millions or billions—of lives were in his hands. Including Amanda's.

Amanda. She'd been his only source of human comfort on that dry, unfeeling planet, just as he had been hers. She'd understood the pain of losing Claire and Noah. She'd cried with him, and hated the universe with him, and held him like a mother should. And she was on the surface of Vulcan, waiting to be destroyed by a Romulan—a Romulan who somehow knew him.

No, not him. Nero knew Spock. What had Spock done to piss this guy off? Sylar remembered him as a regular Vulcan teenager—all studying, science, and maybe a game or two of _kal-toh_ with Sarek or himself. Smirking, he remembered that Spock always seemed bitter about not being able to beat a human at _kal-toh._ Little did he know that Sylar knew how _everything_ worked, including complicated Vulcan board games.

He could feel his brain pounding in his head, could feel the inevitable decision he was about to make. The hunger was stronger than the desire to save Amanda. It had taken him over, and it was stronger than everything. Among the thousands of beings wandering the ship, the thousands of brains, there was one which held something he wanted. Something he craved. Something he needed.

_Claire would hate you for this,_ he reminded himself.

And then the voice of Gabriel disappeared, and he was wholly Sylar, cold-blooded and selfish, full of murderous intent.

He blinked again.

The turbolift began to ascend.


	8. Chapter 8

**Ms. McKirk: **Sure thing!

**khwhitelion: **Yes he does! :D

**Andrina Sparda: **Thanks! Yeah, I had to go through and transcribe part of the movie for this and it was really interesting to think about it as if Sylar was Spock. I wanted him to make the same choices, so figuring out _why_ he was doing these things was a challenge.

**Hazgarn: **Thanks.

**Mark: **Thank you. High five. And no, he killed Peter, remember?

xx

**May 2258**

_**U.S.S. Enterprise**_

**Vulcan Space**

xx

"Away team is entering the atmosphere, sir. Twenty thousand meters."

Sylar settled in to the captain's chair as Chekov rattled off updates on the position of Kirk, Sulu, and Olsen.

"Approaching platform at fifty-eight hundred meters."

With satisfaction, he remembered how good it felt to slice open the top of Spock's skull, knowing that another ability was within his grasp. He imagined Kirk, pinned against the wall, his cocky mouth silenced for once, breathing his last breaths as Sylar taunted him before cutting his head open.

"Kirk is landing—distance to target, five thousand meters."

Suddenly, Sylar became interested in the Russian's reports—if Kirk died on the surface of the drill, the ability would go with him.

"Sulu is landing—four thousand meters… Olsen… Olsen is gone, sir!"

"He had the charges."

"Yes, sir. And Kirk has landed."

Sylar hoped that Kirk and Sulu would be bright enough to realize that blasting the hell out of the drill would do the same damage as a handful of charges.

"The jamming signal's gone!" Uhura announced, after a few tense moments in which Kirk and Sulu had to fight off a few Romulans. "Transporter abilities are re-established."

"Chekov, run gravitational sensors," commanded Sylar. "I want to know what they are doing to the planet."

"Aye, Commander—ach! Captain. Sorry. Captain."

A voice crackled through the speaker. "Kirk to _Enterprise_, they've just launched something at the planet! Into the hole they just drilled! Do you copy, _Enterprise?_"

Chekov spun around in his chair to face Sylar. "Captain, gravitational sensors are off the scale. If my calculations are correct, they're creating a singularity that will—consume the planet."

Sylar was suddenly struck by the horror of the situation. "They are creating a black hole at the center of Vulcan?"

"Yes, sir."

"How long does the planet have?"

Chekov looked at him with apologetic eyes. "Minutes, sir. Minutes."

Sylar jumped to his feet. "Alert Vulcan Command Center to signal a planet-wide evaculation. All channels, all frequencies."

Uhura stood up. "Spock, wait." She followed him to the turbolift. "Where are you going?"

"To evacuate the Vulcan High Council. They are tasked with protecting our cultural history; my parents will be among them."

"Can't you beam them out?"

"It will be impossible. They will be in the katric ark facility within Mount Seleya. I must get them myself. Chekov—you have the conn."

xx

As Spock disappeared, Chekov found himself facing a new problem—that of Kirk, who was screaming through his communicator that he and Sulu were free-falling through the atmosphere.

"I can do zat!" Chekov exclaimed, and sprinted out of the bridge. "Move, move, move!" He pushed a thoroughly-confused engineer out of the way and got in front of the computer in the transporter room. "Move! I can lock on!"

Kirk's frantic voice cut through the room. "Beam us up! _Enterprise, _where are you?"

"Hold on, hold on!"

"Now, now, now! Get us out now!"

"Okay, okay! Hold on! Compensating for gravitational pull, and… gotcha!"

To the surprise and relief of everyone in the room, the two figures of Kirk and Sulu crashed onto the pad, alive and well.

"Clear the pad," came Sylar's voice, as he buckled a utility belt around his waist. "I am beaming to the surface."

"The surface of what?" Kirk was horrified. "What— you're going down there, are you nuts? Spock, you can't do that!"

"I will not lose what family I have left!" he exclaimed, crouching. "Energize!"

"Spock!" shouted Kirk, as he disappeared.

xx

Sylar materialized on the planet's surface, and didn't waste a second. Immediately, he shut his eyes and teleported to Mount Seleya, then ran into the central room of the katric ark facility.

Amanda saw him first. "Spock?"

"The planet has only seconds left," he told them. "We must evacuate."

The members of the Council exchanged skeptical looks.

"Mother, now!" Sylar rushed up, took Amanda's hand, and began to run. Really, he could care less if the rest of the Council members made it out alive, especially Tynak. He didn't turn when the tall statue of Surak fell and crushed the leader; he didn't turn as a large chunk of rock loosed itself from the ceiling of the cave and landed on a second Vulcan. Amanda was safe at his side, and that was all that mattered.

"Spock to Enterprise," he shouted into his communicator upon reaching the outside of the cave. "Get us out now!"

"Locking on," came the voice of Chekov. "Don't move! Stay right where you are."

Thin lines of light began to ring the Vulcans. Petrified, Amanda stared at what remained of her planet, the fractures in the red rock, the hills crumbling into dust.

"Transport in five…"

Amanda turned to look at Sylar. Horror filled her eyes, and Sylar ached for her. He'd never developed an emotional attachment to the planet, but she had; now he would be there to comfort her for the loss of the planet, just as she'd been there for him after the loss of Claire.

"Four… three… two…"

From above, a section of rock separated from the outcropping and fell, chipping off the piece of stone in front of Sylar, and taking Amanda with it. Instinctively, Sylar reached out—he could move anything with his telepathy, he could _save_ her—

"I'm losing her! I'm losing her, I'm—no, I lost her." Chekov stared at the controls, unable to believe it.

The Vulcans appeared on the transporter pad, Sylar still reaching out, devastated. "Send me back!" he demanded, and his voice sounded so harsh that Chekov almost did it.

Sulu and Kirk stared at the science officer. For the first time, Kirk felt real compassion toward him. He wanted to take action, to turn back time and get her back, to do _something_ to ease the Vulcan's pain—but there was only one thing he knew how to do, and that was destroy Nero. Abruptly, he left the transporter room. He was going to come up with a way to kill that bastard.

As Vulcan imploded, so did Kirk's ill will toward Sylar.

As Vulcan imploded, so did Sylar's last shred of self-control.


	9. Chapter 9

**Ms. McKirk: **aww, thanks! I actually cry at the beginning of the movie, every time—poor George and Winona. :(

**Mellyna: **Thanks! Things are about to get very interesting.

**KHwhitelion: **Definitely not!

**iris-tigress: **You'll just have to wait to find that one out… ;) I know, Sylar is just one of those characters—you hate him, but you can't help but love him at the same time. He's been through so much crap in his life… season 3 of Heroes just about killed me, the episode where they show his dad selling him… poor little guy… and then Elle and Noah using him like they did… ugh. He's a bad guy that I have to cheer for. (And Valentina is a beautiful name!)

**Mark: **Of course I must correct things. When Spock said he'd be in the katric ark, I was like hmm… so you can fit inside a small box? _Fascinating._ *shakes head*

**xx**

**May 2258**

_**U.S.S. Enterprise**_

**Beta Quadrant**

**xx**

Sylar sat in his quarters, staring at the chess board. The last sentence of his entry in the Acting Captain's Log echoed in his head.

_I am now a member of an endangered species._

Which was true, of course, though he wasn't thinking about the Vulcans he'd adopted as his brethren. At one time, he'd believed that he was the last living evolved human. Now, he knew that wasn't the case. He wasn't the last of his kind. He was part of an endangered species.

For now.

A knock at his door interrupted his thoughts; when he looked up, it was to see Chekov outlined in the bright light of the hallway.

"Captain," he said slowly, his thick Russian accent permeating the air, "I have come to tell you how sorry I am about your mother—"

Sylar rose from his chair. "Have you lost a mother before, Pavel?"

He lowered his eyes. "No, sir, I have not."

"Well, I've lost _three._ And Amanda was the only one who saw the good in me. The _real_ good, not just what I could be useful for if I _pretended_ to be good."

Chekov was thoroughly confused. "I don't understand."

"Exactly," snarled Sylar. "You've only lived seventeen years. You haven't seen an _eighth_ of what I've lived through." He grabbed him by the neck and slammed him against the door. "So why don't you take your physics degree and your 175 IQ and get the hell out of my quarters before I cut your head open."

"What the hell is going on here?" Kirk demanded. "Spock, for Christ's sake. Let him go."

He did, and Chekov scampered off down the hall like a scared mouse.

"What was that all about?"

Sylar simply turned away. Kirk followed him into his quarters.

"Look—do you need to talk?"

Silence.

"Don't be too hard on Chekov. He feels really guilty. He was damn near crying when he was talking to Sulu earlier. He's acting like he personally murdered her."

"He might as well have," Sylar said evenly.

"C'mon, Spock. He did everything he could."

"Except for sending me back. I could have saved her. Oh, God, I could _still _save her! I—" He glanced up at Kirk, who seemed just as confused as Chekov.

"What do you mean?" demanded Kirk, eyeing the Vulcan face in front of him. The features were alive with hope; he'd never seen so much emotion from him as he'd seen in the last few minutes. It was—_different_.

"Nothing," Sylar replied, realizing his slip-up. "I must be suffering from delusions induced by shock. It is not a typical Vulcan response but, as I am half-human, I have found that I tend to take on some human traits."

"How about a game of chess?" Kirk found himself suggesting.

Sylar paused. "I would not object to that. A game of chess could be quite therapeutic for me."

The door closed behind Kirk and they seated themselves at the table.

Kirk advanced a pawn to start the game.

It was at this point that Sylar realized he couldn't sense another ability. It wasn't Kirk, then—_it must be the doctor, _he decided, and boldly began by moving a knight.

"I know—I know you've been conditioned not to have feelings," Kirk began haltingly. "But you're half-human. It's only natural—I mean, if you _are _feeling emotions, if you want to talk, or just bitch, or whatever, you know, you can."

The next two moves were executed in silence.

"My mother," Sylar said slowly, "was the only one who ever valued my humanity. I could truly be myself when I was with her."

"None of us are going to hold you to Surakian principles," Kirk told him. "Don't feel like you can't be yourself. I'd rather have an captain that I'm a little at-odds with than a captain with no feelings." He offered a smile.

Sylar, though slightly reassured, didn't change his expression. "Thank you for your affirmation, Cadet Kirk."

Kirk slid a bishop across the board. "Yeah. No problem."

"I can not help but feel angry," Sylar said.

"At Nero?"

"Yes."

"So let's kill the son of a bitch." Kirk punctuated his sentence by capturing a rook.

Sylar countered by replacing one of Kirk's bishops with his queen. Rage surged through his veins; he would have loved nothing more than to leave the Romulan in a pool of blood. For a moment, he pictured Matt Parkman's last breath. "It would be illogical," he said at last. "Our ship is too small. We do not have enough weaponry. Our shields can not defend against their weapons."

"Then let's you and I go over there, find the bastard, and kill him ourselves."

Sylar was ready to put a hand on Kirk's shoulder and teleport that instant, but held himself back. "You speak as if it was your planet he destroyed. As if it was your mother he murdered."

Kirk looked away. "Yeah, well. He did kill my father."

"I had forgotten," Sylar replied. "Check."

_So had I, _Kirk thought to himself, and moved his king out of danger.

Sylar let out a huge yawn, and Kirk watched him in surprise. "I didn't think Vulcans were supposed to need as much sleep as humans."

Sylar blinked back at his acting first officer.

"You slept last night."

He raised an eyebrow. "How would you know?"

"I, uh, overheard you talking to Uhura. Saying you didn't answer her call about the transmission because you were sleeping."

Sylar composed himself. "Well… it has been an exhausting day."

"Right." Kirk moved his knight. "Check."

Flustered, Sylar captured Kirk's knight.

"Just out of curiosity," Kirk found himself saying, "how could you still save Amanda?"

Sylar looked up in alarm.

"You said—after you got pissed off at Chekov for not sending you back because you could have saved her—you said you could _still _save her."

"You must have misheard me," Sylar answered.

"I didn't mishear you. That's what you said."

"You must be mistaken—"

"Some sort of new theory? Are you planning on bringing this ship through a black hole?"

He ignored this.

"Spock."

"It has nothing to do with the rest of the crew," Sylar replied. "I could even get your father, Jim."

"My—how?"  
"You seem to be rather interested now."

"I was interested before," countered Kirk. "I just wanted to make sure—"

"That my emotions would not cloud my better judgment?" Sylar gave him a bittersweet smile. "I have resigned myself to the Vulcan ways. You need not worry about my emotions."

"I don't worry about them," Kirk shot back. "I wish you'd release them."

"No, you do not," Sylar said calmly.

"Yeah, I do. I know they're buried and I know they're strong, but damn it, Spock—you have no idea how great it feels sometimes to just punch someone's lights out."

Sylar remained quiet. "Checkmate."

Kirk no longer cared about the chess game. "Come on. You can punch _me_ if you want to. Just—you can't hold all this in. You have to—you have to let it out, you have to—"

Suddenly, Sylar stood, advancing. Kirk held his breath, ready to take the hit. And then Sylar was inches away from his face, seething, anger radiating from every inch of him—

—and he backed away.

"You need to leave," he said to Kirk, turning away.

"Spock, you don't have a single actual _friend_ on this ship. Let me be there for you."

"You need to leave."

Kirk shrugged. "Fine."

Sullenly, he walked down the corridor, and ran into Bones.

"I figured it out!" was Bones' exclamation upon seeing his friend. "I have to make skin contact. Everyone I touched, healed. They're all fine. It's a goddamn miracle." He paused. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing," Kirk lied. "So, you're still on about this healing bullshit?"

"Dammit, Jim. You don't believe me? Here." He grabbed Kirk's arm, pulled a pair of fold-up medical scissors from his pocket, and made a clean slice in his friend's forearm.

"Ouch! What the hell—"

He stopped talking as Bones enclosed a hand around Kirk's arm. He watched the cut seal up, the blood disappear. Shocked, he stared at his skin. "You weren't shitting me."

"I've been trying to tell you."

"Between miracle healers and over-emotional Vulcans," Kirk said, "this is one fucked-up ship."

xx

"Have you confirmed that Nero is headed for Earth?"

"Their trajectories suggest no other destination, Captain," replied Uhura.

"Thank you, Lieutenant."

Kirk sat in the captain's chair, deep in thought. "Earth may be his next stop, but we have to assume every Federation planet is a target."

Sylar didn't even give him a second look. "Out of the chair."

"Well, if the Federation is a target," argued Chekov, "why didn't they destroy us?"

"Why would they? Why waste a weapon?" Sulu answered. "We obviously weren't a threat."

Sylar tilted his head. "That is not it. He said he wanted me to see something. The destruction of my home planet."

"How the hell did they do that, by the way?" Bones demanded. "I mean, where did the Romulans get that kind of weaponry?

"The engineering comprehension necessary to artificially create a black hole may suggest an answer," Sylar said thoughtfully. "Such technology…" And then he had his revelation. The Romulans were _here_—they'd traveled through a black hole, and were years from their time, but they were _alive_. Could Claire be alive, stuck in a different time? She could have went backwards—she could be on that God-awful planet again, trapped in an experimental facility—

"Spock?" Kirk stared at him, wondering what web of thought his brain had been caught in now.

"Yes. Such technology could theoretically be manipulated to create a tunnel through space-time."

The hunger surged again; this time, it was different. Sylar yearned to get his hands on the Romulans' technology—he'd shoot holes in the universe until he found Claire. She was _out_ there somewhere.

"Dammit, man," Bones snarled, "I'm a doctor, not a physicist. Are you actually suggesting they're from the future?"

"If you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth," came Sylar's reply.

Kirk recognized the quote from _Sherlock Holmes. _He was quite sure that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's literature was not a staple of Vulcan education.

"How poetic," mocked Bones.

"Then what would an angry future Romulan want with Captain Pike?" said Kirk.

"As captain, he does know details of Starfleet's defenses," Sulu pointed out.

"What we need to do is catch up to that ship. Disable it, take it over, and get Pike back." Kirk watched Sylar cross the room.

"Yes," Sylar agreed, quite definitively. "We do."

Sulu was shocked at the lack of logic. "Captain, we are technologically outmatched. It would be a suicide mission."

"Nero's ship would have to drop out of warp for us to overtake it," Chekov chimed in.

"Whatever the case, we need to get aboard Nero's ship and attack it from the inside," Kirk reasoned. "As Mr. Sulu said, we are technologically outmatched. The fight has to be one-on-one. Personal."

_Just what I've missed, _Sylar thought.

"We can't just go in there, guns blazing," Bones replied.

"Captain Spock?"

"Yes, Ensign Chekov."

"Based on the Narada's course from Vulcan, I have projected that Nero will travel past Saturn. Like you said, we need to stay invisible to Nero, or he'll destroy us. If we can get to warp factor 4, and if we drop out of warp behind one of Saturn's moons, say, Titan—the magnetic distortion from the planet's rings will make us invisible to Nero's sensors. From there, as long as the drill is not activated, we can beam aboard the enemy ship."

Bones raised an eyebrow. "Wait a minute, kid, how old are you?"

Chekov grinned. "Seventeen, sir."

"Oh, good." Sarcasm penetrated every note. "He's seventeen."

Sylar glared at him. "Doctor. Mr. Chekov is correct. If Mr. Sulu is able to maneuver us into position, I can beam aboard Nero's ship, steal back the black hole device and, if possible, bring back Captain Pike." He paused. "Romulans and Vulcans share a common ancestry. Our cultural similarities will make it easier for me to access the ship's computer to locate the device. Also, my mother was human, which makes Earth the only home I have left."

Kirk stepped forward. "Then I'm coming with you."

"I would cite regulation," Sylar said dryly, "but I know you will simply ignore it."

Kirk chuckled. "See—we are getting to know each other."

Sylar sat in the captain's chair. "Attention, crew of the _Enterprise, _this is Acting Captain Spock. I hereby order a pursuit course of the enemy ship to Earth. All departments at battle stations and ready in ten minutes." He then turned to Kirk. "Mr. Kirk, you have the conn."

"Where are _you_ going?" he demanded.

"I will be back in a matter of moments," Sylar said. "There is something I must take care of before we board the _Narada._"


	10. Chapter 10

**Mark: **Yes, I have. Stupid f***ing Matt Parkman!!! and yes, just a crossover :P

**Mellyna: **Thanks for reading & reviewing! :D

**Ms. McKirk: **Made it so ;)

**Zephyr: **Thanks so much! I'm having a lot of fun writing this :)

**A/N: **I'm back at school now: 21 credits, which equates to 7 classes. Full-time status is 12 credits, so I'm on total overload here. Chapters may be once a week now, if I'm lucky, but I'm having so much fun writing this story that homework might just take a back seat a few times. ;) I'll see how fast I can finish this. Thanks for reading everyone… I love seeing your reviews, too… they help me tweak my outlines and figure out what to do next! Thanks again! :D

**xx**

**May 2258**

_**U.S.S. Enterprise**_

**Alpha Quadrant**

**xx**

The doors to Sylar's quarters were locked tightly.

He stood, facing the mirror. A familiar face stared back at him; dark eyes, rounded ears, thick, straight eyebrows, and a haircut free of fringed bangs. A human face.

The stream of water in the faucet in front of him had frozen in time. The clock was still. He had all the time in the world.

Drawing in a breath, he shut his eyes and teleported.

Stone fell around him; he stood with the Vulcan elders and his mother on an outcropping of rock. A duplicate of himself, in the form of Spock, stood at his mother's side.

"No time to explain," he said shortly to himself, put a hand on his mother's arm, and teleported back to the ship.

"Sylar," Amanda said, short of breath, "what happened? Where's Spock? What—"

"I'm doing your son a favor," Sylar explained, fighting the tears that threatened to flow. "He tried to save you, but they didn't beam you up in time. I came back for you."

"Came back—"

"I can travel through time, Amanda. It's one of the many abilities I acquired, back when I was—back on Earth. Spock…" He pressed his lips together. "Spock asked me to bring you back to him. You're the person who matters the most to him, Amanda."

Tears sprung to her eyes. "Thank you," she whispered.

"I have to go. Take care."

And he was gone.

Then, he was on the deck of another ship, his eyebrows slanted upward once again, ears sloped to sharp tips. The sound of a baby's cries echoed out over the speakers.

"What are we gonna call him?" asked the lone man on the bridge, his face full of sweat and tears.

"We could name him after your father," came a female voice.

"Tiberius? Are you kidding me? No, that's the worst!" Despite the situation, he found a laugh. "Let's name him after your dad. Let's call him Jim."

"Jim. Okay. Jim it is."

"Sweetheart, can you hear me?"

"I can hear you—"

"I love you so much."

Sylar put a hand out.

The _Kelvin_ crashed, empty, into the _Narada._

They arrived in a hallway of the _Enterprise. _

"Who are you?" George Kirk demanded. "Where am I? What happened?"

"My name is Spock," said Sylar. "You are on the U.S.S. _Enterprise._"

"My wife? My son—"

"You have arrived twenty-five years in the future," Spock said to him. "Your son is the first officer on this ship."

"And you—"

"Are a friend of Jim's," Spock answered. "You will see him. But right now, he and I are about to destroy the ship that just destroyed yours."

xx

Sylar felt a bit lighter as he walked down the corridor. For all the lives he'd taken, he'd saved two. Maybe he could save more. Briefly, he hoped that God believed in algebra.

He came into the transporter room, where Kirk was waiting.

"What'd you have to do?"

Sylar paused. "If you visit the medical bay, you will discover what I have done."

"What—"

"My mother. And your father. They are here."

"Bullshit."

"No, Jim. I am telling the truth." He paused. "And it is my greatest wish that you will put all thoughts of this mission aside and go speak with him."

Kirk's head spun. "What—Spock, I'm not going to let you go in there by yourself!"

Sylar's lips twitched. "Curious, considering I am the captain, and the orders come from me."

"Damn your orders. Now tell me why the hell you want me to go away."

"I am the captain of this ship."

"Acting captain," Kirk reminded him.

"Either way," Sylar pressed, his lips in a thin line, "I reserve the right to give you a direct order."

"Yeah, I don't really mesh well with authority," came Kirk's brash reply.

Sylar grabbed his arm and roughly hauled him into the corridor. "You are just going to have to trust me," he growled. "I do not want you to die, Jim."

"If we go together, there's a better chance—"

"You do not understand. You can die. I cannot."

"Yeah, I get it, you're Vulcan and you have a long life span—"

Angrily, Sylar pulled out his phaser and shot himself in the thigh.

"Spock, what—" He watched, awestruck, as the wound closed up and healed itself, leaving no trace of injury.

"Do you believe me now?"

Kirk was speechless.

"I am going alone," Sylar repeated. "I will not have your blood on my hands."

"I'm responsible for my own damn blood," Kirk pressed. "I'm coming with you." He marched back into the transporter room and up on to the pad. "With or without your permission."

Silently, Sylar joined him.

"Okey dokey then," Scotty began, "if there's any common sense in the design of the ship, I should be putting you somewhere in the cargo bay. Shouldn't be a soul in sight."

"Energize," Kirk said.

Instead, they materialized in front of several Romulans.

"Dammit!" hollered Kirk. He fired his phaser at the first Romulan he saw, knocking him on his feet, and sprinted across the floor.

"The pipe!" Sylar yelled, following him. "Get behind the pipe!"

Kirk fired his phaser as fast as he could, cutting across the room, desperately seeking cover. He dove behind the pipe just in time.

Sylar hit the ground a second after, green blood seeping from a wound in his shoulder. Kirk watched it heal. "Fuck, what is going _on?_"

"If I meld with one of them," he said breathlessly, "I can figure out where the red matter is."

"I'll cover you," Kirk said immediately.

Sylar turned to him. "Are you certain?"

Kirk felt his pulse racing. "Yeah. I gotcha."

Sylar darted forward and delicately placed his fingers on the face of an unconscious Romulan, closing his eyes. As another Romulan approached, Kirk shot him square in the stomach, then went to crouch by Sylar.

"Do you know where it is?" he asked, scanning the room, his phaser ready to take out anything that threatened to move.

"And Captain Pike," Sylar said. He turned to Kirk. "Come with me. I will show you where Pike is after we reach the ship."

"Wait… _show_ me?"

xx

Christine Chapel stood in the doorway of Bones' office, shifting from one foot to the other.

Finally, Bones looked up from his PADD. "Yes, Nurse Chapel?"

"New arrivals on the ship."

"You're qualified to scan them, you know."

"I—I know that, sir, and I did. But—the woman says she's Spock's mother. And the man says he's Kirk's father."

Bones threw his sandwich down and wiped his hands on his pants. "God damn it, if it's not one thing, it's another. I suppose next, we're going to have Zefram Cochrane beaming onto our ship from some goddamn alternate—" He stopped short at seeing a young, well-built, familiar-looking man staring him in the face. "Sweet Jesus," Bones said. "You _are_ George Kirk."

xx

"I foresee a complication," Sylar said, surveying the inside of the small spacecraft in which the red matter was housed.

"Voice print and face recognition analysis enabled," came the voice of the ship's computer. "Welcome back, Ambassador Spock."

Sylar raised an eyebrow. "Computer. What is your manufacturing origin?"

"Stardate 2387," replied the soft digital voice. "Commissioned by the Vulcan Science Academy."

"Weird," Kirk said. "You're going to be able to fly this thing, right?"

Sylar gazed at his surroundings. "Something tells me I already have."

"It shouldn't be a problem, then." He grinned.

"Allow me to meld with you," Sylar said. "I will show you where Captain Pike is being held."

Kirk stood stock-still, painfully aware of his heartbeat's percussive thump, as Sylar put warm fingers to his face.

Instantly, he saw an image of the area of the ship they'd just beamed on to. From there, his mind was taken through tunnels, water covering the metal floors, the stench of oil and machinery in the air. Then, out in the open again, strapped to a table, Captain Pike, struggling to keep from telling Nero—something. _What?_

Then, Sylar took his fingers away. But before the meld ended, Kirk grasped two more strands of Sylar's mind.

The first part was cold as packed snow, hard as titanium. Sharp and unforgiving. Unrelenting. Full of hate, lacking fear, wanting—something.

Then, warmth. A shell of protection. Love—but with more fear than before. A lack of wanting—a sense of completion—a sense of home. Uneasy peace. The smell of sunflower and lavender.

_No time to dwell,_ thought Kirk's logical half.

"Good luck," Kirk said to Sylar, resting a hand on his shoulder.

Sylar did not freeze at the touch. "And to you," he said.


	11. Chapter 11

**Ms. McKirk: **Thank you!

**Mark: **You're not tired now. No excuses this time :D

**Andrina Sparda: **thanks for all the feedback! I felt bad for Chekov in ch. 9 too… poor kid. I hope Sulu cheered him up (platonic or not, either way. lol)

**Hazgarn: **God's belief in algebra is only logical. :)

**xx**

**May 2258**

_**Narada**_

**Alpha Quadrant**

**xx**

As Kirk navigated the watery tunnels, he thought about the two fragments of personality he'd gleaned from Sylar's subconscious. He couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't right, that his acting captain was somehow actually two different people at once.

He also couldn't shake the knowledge that he was unreasonably drawn to him. It felt as though in order to keep the fragile fabric of space intact, he had to be as close to the Vulcan as possible. It was completely ridiculous, because he seemed the last possible man who would need protection; but Kirk knew now that underneath the poised surface was a volcano of emotion, waiting to erupt.

Kirk couldn't decide yet if he was excited or frightened.

xx

Sylar, meanwhile, was navigating through the bowels of the _Narada, _the red matter in his possession and one glorious thought in his mind.

_Claire._

He had it now, a gigantic orb of hope and a ship of his own that _didn't_ have thousands of people on board. Grabbing the controls, he blasted a hole in the side of the Romulan vessel, and shot out into the black vacuum of space, intending to head in the direction of Neptune, away from Starfleet and prime directives.

The first thing he saw was his home planet.

It had been over a century since he left Earth with his family for Vulcan. Somewhere on that globe, a miniscule speck among specks, was the last home he'd shared with Claire. Briefly, he wondered if the hostas still grew in the backyard. If the saplings they'd planted had grown into tall oaks. If there was another young couple living there now, sharing small joys and small tragedies, exchanging kisses, making love…

He turned the ship around.

xx

Kirk came around the corner, fired his phaser to take down a Romulan, and ran over to his captain.

"What're you doing here?" Pike demanded weakly.

"Just following orders," replied Kirk, removing the restraints. As he threw off the last strap, Pike grabbed Kirk's phaser and blasted two Romulans, stopping them in their tracks.

"_Enterprise,_ now!" shouted Kirk, helping Pike to his feet.

The next instant found Kirk and Pike standing next to Sylar, safe in the transporter room aboard the _Enterprise._

Kirk's face relaxed into an easy grin. "Nice timing, Scotty."

He gave an ecstatic chuckle. "I've never beamed three people from two targets onto one pad before!"

Immediately, Bones and Chapel rushed in, Chapel scanning the captain with a tricorder. Sylar and Kirk took off for the bridge at once.

"Captain, the enemy ship is losing power," Chekov reported, looking up at Sylar. "Their shields are down, sir."

Sylar and Kirk exchanged a look.

"Fire everything we have," came Sylar's sour order.

Kirk turned to the acting captain in surprise.

"Sometimes," Sylar said flatly, "a feeling is so strong and so right that it is only… _logical_ to listen to that feeling."

"Murder?" came Kirk's incredulous reply.

Sylar's eyes glittered. "No." His voice was soft. "There was no malicious intent, Jim. I only sought justice."

"Revenge," he submitted.

Sylar was silent for a moment. "Precisely."

xx

Once the _Enterprise _had escaped the pull of the black hole, they began the slow trip back to Earth without warp drive. Kirk excused himself from the bridge and made his way down to sickbay, tingling at the prospect of seeing his father.

"Bones," Kirk greeted his friend, with an affable slap on the back. "Spock said--"

Bones stared back at him, round-eyed. "Christ, Jim. There's no question about it. Your dad's here."

"Spock said he could bring him," Kirk whispered. "Both his mother and my father."

"Yeah. Yeah, Amanda's here, too."

"How the _hell—"_

"Jim?"

Kirk looked past Bones to see a near-mirror image of himself, still dressed in the old blue Starfleet uniform. "Dad?"

George grinned.

"How did he get you here?" he blurted out.

"Your friend. Spock."

"Yeah, but how'd he—I mean, did you transport?"

George shook his head. "I was talking to your mother. You'd just been born. And all of a sudden, just before the _Kelvin_ crashed into that other ship, he just—appeared. Put a hand on my shoulder. And then we were here."

Bones' eyes got even rounder. "D'you think…"

"What?" Kirk said.

"My healing ability. Maybe Spock—maybe Spock can move through time."

"He's a Vulcan. I thought this was about being descended from the evolved humans that were all supposedly killed during the American Holocaust."

"He's _half-_Vulcan," Bones argued. "Maybe Amanda…"

Kirk went directly into the next room to find her. "You're Spock's mom," he proclaimed, arriving at her bedside.  
She smiled. "Yes."

"Were—are you descended from any evolved humans?"

"Evolved humans? No." She furrowed her brow. "Why?"  
"We were just wondering how Spock got you two on this ship," replied Kirk.

"Oh—it was Sylar," Amanda said. "He's a friend of the family—_he's _an evolved human. He's been alive for centuries—"

"Sylar?" Bones spat out the word. "You're friends with _Sylar?"_

"It wasn't a human," George said at the same time. "I distinctly remember a _Vulcan_ taking me off the ship. And then when we got here, he told me that my son was a friend of his. He put his hand on my shoulder—"

"And then you were here," whispered Amanda. Suddenly, her eyes widened. "Oh, no."

"Please, for Christ's sake," Bones interjected, "tell me that Sylar is not on this ship."

Kirk turned to Bones. "What do you have against this guy?" he demanded.

Bones exploded. "He's a goddamn murderer! He killed my fifth great-grandfather!"

"Your fifth… Bones, that doesn't even make _sense!"_

"Does this make sense?" he shouted, putting his hands to Kirk's face and healing the wounds he'd suffered on the _Narada._ "No! But it happens!"

"So you're telling me that Sylar can travel through time…"

"He can." Amanda was pale as ice. "He can also shape-shift," she continued, tears welling in her eyes. "I'm afraid—I'm afraid that the man on this ship isn't Spock at all."

xx

Later that night, after a long conversation in which Kirk filled his father in on the past twenty-five years and reassured him that his mother was alive and unmarried, he retired to his quarters.

Immediately, he went to the shower, cranking up the temperature and letting the steam fill the room as he peeled his uniform shirt off.

As the first officer, he knew, his duty was to keep the crew's best interests in mind. Having a serial killer for a captain wasn't exactly the greatest fate for the _Enterprise._ _Then again_, he reasoned, stepping into the hot water, Spock—_Sylar—_had been a full-fledged member of Starfleet for years. Under his assumed personality, he hadn't put a toe out of line. It seemed as though he'd given up on killing people. Wasn't it only right to give him a second chance?

_No,_ said the nagging little voice in his brain. _No, you're being lenient and you know it, and you know why._

And he _did_ know why. That tangled-up mess of emotion in his gut was why. That knot of tension which tightened every time the Vulcan was within arm's length. The fact that Spock seemed to have his own gravitational pull when Kirk was in the vicinity. The imposing reality that Kirk felt like a sixth-grade girl whenever they had a conversation.

_Oh, fuck._

Kirk slid down the wall of the shower and sat, letting the sharp jets of water pound into his aching back. He'd went there, his mind couldn't deny it any longer, and it was the worst time to have this revelation.

He pictured walking into a Recovering Addicts meeting.

"_Hi. My name is Jim."_

_"Hi, Jim."_

_"Hi. Yeah… umm, I'm addicted to a shapeshifting serial killer who's been posing as a Vulcan for years."_

He let out a sigh. _Fuck. What am I going to do?_


	12. Chapter 12

**iris-tigress: **Maybe… ;) I think you'll like this one. lol

**Ms. McKirk: **Sorry it took so long! School is a drag.

**Mark: **You never know. I could convert you. ;)

xx

**May 2258**

_**U.S.S. Enterprise**_

**Alpha Quadrant**

xx

"Spock?"

Sylar looked up from a PADD. "Yes. Come in."

Kirk edged through the door and let it shut behind him. "I—I have two things to talk to you about."

"Proceed."

"First… well, I don't think I can get the right words across. But if—but if you mind meld with me, you can understand what I'm thinking, right?"

"That is correct."

"Then do it."

Sylar shifted slightly in his chair. "Jim, mind-melding is a very intimate experience. I may see things you do not wish me to see."

"That's just it," he replied. "I don't want to hold anything back anymore. Come take a look."

Tentatively, Sylar rose from his chair and approached his first officer. Kirk held his breath as Sylar's warm fingers pressed against his own cool flesh; for a moment, he felt a slight tingle, and then the world around him vanished.

He stood on the surface of a planet. Niobe, perhaps. It didn't matter. The desert of blue sand felt cool beneath his feet, and a sickle moon hung in the violet sky. Across from him, millimeters away, stood Sylar, Spock as he knew him, ears tapered to fine points, eyebrows at perfect angles, black hair shining in the moonglow.

Neither of them spoke; but gold dust danced around Kirk, warm and light and joyful, and a thin layer of silver ringed Sylar—mysterious, cold, intriguing. As Kirk called his emotions to mind, the metallic fragments met in the middle—twisted, writhed, danced, an orgy of twinkling particles, until each atom of gold had bonded with one of silver and become inseparable.

_Parted and not parted,_ Kirk felt his counterpart think. _Never and always touching and touched…_

_Yes,_ Kirk thought back at him, as hard as he could. _Touching. Touched. Sylar—_

All of a sudden, Sylar broke the meld. "How do you know that name?" he demanded harshly.

"Don't," Kirk said, suddenly frightened. "Please. I learned last night, from your mom—from Amanda—that your name is Sylar."

Reflexively, Sylar used his telekinesis to slam him into a wall. "How does she know?"

"Why does it matter? You—in the meld—you said—"

"Never mind what I said."

"Spock. Sylar. Whoever you are," Kirk panted, painfully aware that his feet were dangling a good foot from the floor, "I don't care what your past was like. Bones told me you murdered an ancestor of his. But I never knew that version of you. You've changed—it was so long ago—"

At that, Sylar let him go. "I changed," he said quietly, "for a time."

Rubbing his throat, Kirk waited for him to continue.

"Her name was Claire. She was like me—she can't die. We had a son, Noah. We did our best to live normal lives— we moved around a lot, but we were happy. We had to stay off the radar and keep running—this was during the American Holocaust. We weren't safe anywhere. Then Zefram Cochrane made first contact with the Vulcans."

"That was ages ago."

"Being indestructible means time can't beat me, either," Sylar said with a shrug. "Anyway, Claire and I joined Noah and his family in Montana, and the Vulcans agreed to take us with them as refugees. So we boarded shuttles. I ended up getting separated from them. Put on a different shuttle. And on the way to Vulcan, I watched out the window as my entire family was sucked into a black hole."

Kirk felt a pang of sympathy, and moved toward him. "I'm so sorry."

"I snapped," Sylar continued. "I got on Vulcan and killed a scientist. They wouldn't let me go back to Earth. But Sarek saved me from myself… for a time. Then, I killed his son."

"Why?"

"He was joining Starfleet. Coming to Earth."

"Spock. You stole his identity."

Sylar nodded. "Do you know how annoying it is to live in someone else's skin for that long?"

"I can't say I do."

Silence reigned for a moment before Sylar turned back to Kirk. "Do you still want our atoms to melt together?"

Kirk laughed. "You're different when you're not pretending to be Vulcan."

Sylar allowed himself a smile.

"And yes," Kirk said quietly. "I still want that."

Sylar regarded him with sad eyes. "I'm sorry," he finally said. "I can't. I—maybe in another lifetime, Jim. I mean it. But Claire… I just can't give up on her. She's _out _there somewhere."

He nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I understand." He forced a smile. "It's no problem."

For the first time in Kirk's life, rejection felt like a solid punch to the stomach.

xx

The next morning, when Sylar stepped onto the bridge, Bones was waiting.

"You pointy-eared son of a bitch!" he roared, and flew at him, landing a punch to the stomach. "I know that's where your heart is, if you've even got one! Survive that, goddammit!" He socked him again.

Kirk dove in. "Bones! Come on, leave him the hell alone!"  
"Jim, don't fuck with me on this—"

"Which one was it?" demanded Sylar. "Which one was your ancestor? I've been dying to know."

"Peter Petrelli," Bones declared, swinging, missing, and hitting the captain's chair instead.

Sylar laughed. "So that's the kind of stock you come from. No wonder you're such an overdramatic—"

He was cut off by a right cross from Bones.

"Bones, I'm telling you—"

"No, Jim, it's fine. He can hit me all he wants, he's not going to permanently disfigure me—I regenerate, Dr. McCoy. And no matter how hard you try to kill me, I'm not going to die."

"It's true!" Kirk shouted, doing his level best to hold his friend back. "It's true, I watched him."

At that moment, Kirk got hit in the face by Bones' elbow, who'd succeeded in the struggle to break free of Kirk's grip.

Chekov let out a curse in Russian. "Sulu! Do something!"

Sylar raised a hand and put Bones into the wall, letting him hang in the air. "You see, I have the real power here," Sylar articulated. He raised his index finger. "All I have to do—" He made a tiny motion in the air, and a small cut appeared in Bones' forehead. "That ability to heal with your hands," he said. _"_It's _fascinating."_

"You goddamn—"

"Can you heal _yourself?"_ Sylar said, and drew the line a little further.

"Stop!" cried Sulu, putting up a hand.

To Sylar's surprise, he found that the cut across Bones' forehead would not expand. "What—" Immediately, he turned to Sulu. "You," he snarled.

Kirk went to pull Bones from the wall, but was thwarted by something.

"There's a forcefield here," Kirk said, after walking straight into it.

Sylar turned immediately to the pilot.

Kirk followed suit. "Sulu? You too?"

Uhura looked as if she were about to throw up. "What _are_ you?" she whispered.

Calming down, Sulu dropped his hand, and Sylar dropped Bones.

"Not a Vulcan," Bones pronounced, coughing.

"Obviously," Uhura replied.

Sylar stared at Kirk.

"Do it," he said.

It was almost an order for liberation. Pointed ears became softly rounded ones. Thin, slanted eyebrows reverted to thick, straight ones. The tint of his skin changed from a cool green to a warm peach.

His stomach still hurt. But he felt the thump of a human heart in his ribcage.

"My name is Sylar," he said.

Uhura had no words.

"My name… my name is Gabriel Gray," he corrected, and turned to Bones and Sulu. "I am like you both," he said slowly. "We are an endangered species. We must stick together." He paused. "Dr. McCoy."

"What?"

"I'm sorry. About Peter."

"The hell you are."

Sylar internalized this. "I'm sorry. I know I am a monster. It seems that will never change. The only person who could tame me is gone." He turned. "I resign my commission. The bridge is yours, Captain Kirk."

The crew watched in silence as Sylar disappeared into the turbolift.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: **Here's the final installment! Thanks for everyone who's been reading and reviewing. I'm also including a list of supplemental materials, which is basically Bones' and Sulu's lineage, along with some stuff about Claire and Gabriel/Sylar. I'm a genealogy nut in real life so making fake family trees for fiction is fun. (Holy alliteration, Batman.)

--

**Andrina Sparda: **No worries, school cuts down my writing time. :( Thanks for your great comments, I always find them constructive and helpful.

**Jinx0-0:** Thank you! You made it just in time for the last chapter. :D

**Mellyna: **Thanks, hope you enjoy the ending.

**Mark: **Thanks for reading. love you :D

**Ms. McKirk: **Oh, he does. :)

xx

**May 2258**

_**U.S.S. Enterprise**_

**Alpha Quadrant**

xx

"Come in."

Sylar looked up to see Kirk standing in his doorway. "I figured it would be you."

"I have something for you," Kirk blurted out.

"No thanks."

Kirk walked in anyway and handed him the PADD he was carrying.

Sylar glared at him. "What's this?"

"First contact between Vulcan and Earth was well-documented," Kirk told him. "Very well-documented."

"Okay."

"I contacted Starfleet last night. After Earth joined the Federation, Vulcan provided the planet with every detail about first contact, the time spent on the planet, and the mission home. Including coordinates of the black hole, which they sent a probe into."

Sylar's eyes lit up. "Jim—"

"Take one of our shuttles. Go look for her."

"Why are you doing this?" Sylar wanted to know. "I've murdered people, Jim."

"You gave my father back to me," he said firmly. "You gave Amanda back to Sarek. Not everything is black and white in this world."

"Morally gray," Sylar mused. He thought briefly of Claire's father, and how he'd made several questionable choices to protect his daughter. "You're giving me a free pass," he realized.

"Yeah. I am."

Sylar looked down at the PADD, then back up at Jim. "Thank you," he said earnestly.

Kirk looked at him with sad eyes. "You're welcome."

xx

Later that night, Kirk went down to the shuttle with Sylar. It was odd, Kirk thought, to see him as a human. He had to admit he missed the ears.

"So." He cleared his throat. "This is goodbye then."

Sylar handed him three sealed envelopes. "One is for Sarek and Amanda," he said. "One is for Dr. McCoy and Mr. Sulu."

"And the third?"

"Is for you."

"What if there's nothing there?" Kirk found himself saying. "What if you go into the black hole and on the other side there's just… nothingness. Or some awful universe…"

"Jim." Sylar's real voice was so much softer than that of his Vulcan persona. He rested a hand on Kirk's arm, and Kirk felt a little pang of sorrow. "It doesn't matter. I'll never be able to rest until I find out." He paused. "You don't know what it's like—to be ready to deal with anything in order to just be with someone."

The knot in his stomach doubled in size. "Don't assume so easily," he said in a low voice.

"You haven't known me that long. It's illogical."

Kirk gave him a weak smile. "You can't play the Vulcan card anymore. You weren't raised on Surakian principles."

He shouldered his bag. "They've held me together for plenty of years." He raised his hand in the Vulcan salute. "Live long and prosper."

"Good luck," Kirk choked out, shaking his other hand.

Sylar turned to board the shuttle.

"Hey, Sylar," Kirk shouted.

He looked over his shoulder.

"Find her," he managed.

He smiled and disappeared into the shuttle.

xx

**May 2258**

**U.S.S. **_**Enterprise**_

**Alpha Quadrant**

xx

Back on the _Enterprise, _Kirk sat alone in his quarters and opened the envelope Sylar left him.

_Jim—_

_I must apologize, first, for any harm I have caused you. That was never my intent._

_Under a different set of circumstances—perhaps in another alternate timeline—I believe we could have been great friends, and even more. You took a great risk in admitting your affection for me; I must confess, now that I am certainly through the black hole, that I harbored similar feelings for you. I have never been sentimental. But I would like to tell you that only one other person has affected my heart in such a way, and that was my Claire, who I could not give up on. She turned me from a monster into a man, Jim, and loved me despite all of my faults and shortcomings. _

_With my ability to understand the way things work comes an awful hunger to know more. Before Claire, I was, indeed, a serial killer. Unable to control the hunger, I killed people to examine their brains and learn how to use their abilities. It was grotesque and abhorrent. _

_Then, Claire came along. She saved me. She gave me a reason to curb my appetite, as it were. And she gave me Noah, who further helped me to quell the monster inside. For many years, through the American Holocaust, we hid together. We kept each other from going mad by loving each other. Then I lost her; and all traces of my reformed self vanished along with her into that black hole._

_You, however, proved to be a beacon. Another light in the dark. A reason to keep that hunger in check. When I discovered Dr. McCoy had an ability, my first instinct was to cut open his head and take it. But you were on the ship, Jim, and somehow your presence gave me a reason to hold myself back—even though I nearly failed myself, and you, by injuring him in our altercation on the bridge._

_I fail to see what it is you see in me, Jim. I should say that, in you, I see a headstrong man who will fight to the death for his friends and loved ones. I see a capable, clear-headed man who is fit to be the captain of the Enterprise. My only regret is that I will not be able to serve at your side, as I must travel through the black hole to find Claire._

_I wish you nothing but the best of luck in your career and your life. I am proud to say I served with you, and I will always treasure the brief time we shared together._

_Live long and prosper, my friend._

_Sylar_

Letting the piece of paper fall from his fingertips, Kirk grabbed the brandy he kept in his bedside drawer, furiously wiping tears from his eyes. He felt partially consoled by Sylar's words, but the sting of separation was no less potent.

Hand shaking, he poured an ample amount into a tumbler.

_This is going to be a long recovery process_, he thought.

xx

**May 2258**

_**Galileo**_** Shuttlecraft**

**Uncharted Space**

xx

The stars spread out in front of Sylar like limitless possibilities.

It was a daunting idea, coming through the black hole and realizing that Claire could be on any one of the planets, in any of these solar systems. Then there was the matter of _finding_ her.

_A speck on a speck,_ Sylar thought.

He shrugged to himself. _It's not like I haven't got the time._

Immediately, he set a course to the nearest planet, an orb of sky-blue.

xx

When he landed, he was immediately met by a crew of five young men, all uniformed and carrying strange-looking weapons. Their skin was tinged purple, and their eyes were twice the size of human eyes. Promptly, Sylar put up his hands. "I mean no harm," he said. "I am only seeking my wife."

One of the soldiers turned to a comrade. "He speaks Terran," the soldier said, surprise in his voice.

"I am from Earth," Sylar told them.

"What is your name?"

"Gabriel Gray."

Immediately, four of the five soldiers knelt and bowed their heads. The other sprinted off.

"What's going on?" he demanded.

"The day of prophecy," one of the soldiers managed. "It is you. You have come."

A bell began to toll and, for the first time, Sylar noticed he had landed outside of a temple of some sorts. He watched with interest as the great wooden doors opened and a figure, clothed in a lavender dress and a veil of plum, emerged regally from the building.

Two hands, pale and shaking with excitement, reached up to remove her veil.

Sylar could have cried.

"Gabriel!" yelled Claire, sprinting toward him.

"Claire," he choked out, and then he was sobbing, and she was in his arms, alive and whole and very much real. "Oh, God, Claire. I thought I'd never see you again."

"I knew you'd come," she whispered through tears. "I knew it. So much that I've been pretending to be a goddess for the past 195 years!" She laughed, wiping tears from her face. "I thought—they seemed to think that, since I couldn't die—and it was best to be the most conspicuous person on the planet when you came looking for me—and it worked!"

Sylar wrapped her into a tight hug, burying his face in her long blonde curls. She smelled of sweet fruit and flowers, just as she used to.

"Never leave me again," she whispered.

He gave her a kiss. "Never," he promised.


	14. Supplemental Materials

**Supplemental Materials—for fun :)**

**xx**

**==Leonard McCoy: Descendancy from the Petrelli and Linderman families==**

1. Arthur Petrelli + Angela Shaw = **Peter Petrelli,** b. 1979, d. 2012 _(murdered by Sylar)_

2. Daniel Linderman + Susan Olson = **Katharine Olson, **b. 1977, d. 2059 _(heart attack)_

_*Daniel and Susan were not married._

3. Peter Petrelli + Katharine Olson = **Peter Petrelli, Jr., **b. 2012

_*It was unknown to both Peter and Katharine that Daniel Linderman was her father. She grew up with an adoptive father and possessed no abilities._

4. Peter Petrelli, Jr. + Abigail Blake = **Miles Petrelli, **b. 2035

5. Miles Petrelli + Kyoko Masahashi = **Theo Petrelli, **b. 2066

6. Theo Petrelli + Lisbet Van Ness = **Caruso Petrelli, **b. 2091

7. Caruso Petrelli + Janine Anderson = **Brighton Petrelli, **b. 2119

8. Brighton Petrelli + Caitlin O'Hara = **Anson Petrelli, **b. 2145

9. Anson Petrelli + Isabel Black = **Benjamin Petrelli, **b. 2170

10. Benjamin Petrelli + Lauren Russell = **Carla Petrelli, **b. 2201

11. David McCoy + Carla Petrelli = **Leonard McCoy, **b. 2227

==**Hikaru Sulu: Descendancy from the Masahashi and Nakamura families==**

Ando Masahashi + Kimiko Nakamura = Kyo Masahashi b. 2012

Kyo Masahashi + Midori Yamaguchi = Saburo Masahashi b. 2037

Saburo Masahashi + Sachiko Tanaka = Michiko Masahashi b. 2058

Takuma Yamamoto + Michiko Masahashi = Taro Yamamoto b. 2081

Taro Yamamoto + Sumiko Fujiwara = Saburo Yamamoto b. 2107

Saburo Yamamoto + Sayuri Okada = Setsuko Yamamoto b. 2130

Daisuke Ito + Setsuko Yamamoto = Akane Ito b. 2154

Arata Sasaki + Akane Ito = Masaru Sasaki b. 2174

Masaru Sasaki + Kumiko Matsumoto = Isamu Sasaki b. 2197

Isamu Sasaki + Cho Kimura = Aina Sasaki b. 2216

Bayani Sulu + Aina Sasaki = Hikaru Sulu b. 2237

**==The Descendants of Gabriel and Claire Gray==**

Gabriel Gray + Claire Bennet = Noah Gray b. 2011

Noah Gray + Lily LaMarche = Krista Gray b. 2039

Larac'pralco + Krista Gray = Meric'laraco b. 2068

Meric'laraco + Muara'kataca = Yhela'merica b. 2098

Karac'teraco + Yhela'merica = Hatha'karaca b. 2131

Parac'naraco + Hatha'karaca = Lysic'paraco b. 2160

Lysic'paraco + Ompha'rataca = Terac'lysico b. 2195

Terac'lysico + Thyna'rinaca = Rhela'teraca b. 2224

Tirec'ronaco + Rhela'teraca = Lhura'tireca b. 2252

**The inhabitants of the planet Claire landed on have a patronymic naming system with the suffix of –o indicating "son of" and the suffix of –a indicating "daughter of."

Hence, the daughter of **Tirec**'ronaco is Lhura'**tireca. **(Tirec + -a.)


End file.
